Engraved
by explodingduck
Summary: An old man in a graveyard, doing something he should have done a long time ago.


Grave yards had always been a place of quiet and peace. Derek had thought so throughout his childhood and still, even at the age of seventy-five, did he think so. He slowly made his way down the path that meandered its way in-between the headstones and flower beds. It was a rather warm and sunny spring afternoon that smelled of fresh rain and mud.

He studied the headstones as he passed were old headstones whose inscriptions were fading, where the names of the dead could barely be distinguished in the sunlight; he wondered if there was anyone left tending to those graves or if they simply just stood there, waiting for the day they were to be replaced. Then there were golden graves, white graves, the new graves that informed him of the fact that everyday people died and left life on earth. The aging man continued his journey through the graveyard until he stopped before one of the headstones. It was a white classic stone which was formed like a rectangle. The top had the elegant shape of an arch.

_Just like her_, he thought and stared down at the flowers that had been carefully placed before the stone. White lilies, huh? So his sister must have been there recently. Amelia always put white lilies on the graves of deceased family members. He smiled at the thought of his baby sister who still, after all these years, smiled and laughed, while Derek himself rarely laughed anymore. A gentle breeze made its way through the graveyard and the trees swayed peacefully. His smile faded as he focused on the gravestone.

"Hello." he said to the grave, voice tired and hoarse. The sun warmed his back and he slowly lifted his hand to his head and took off his beret.

"I often... think about you."

The singing of a bird was the only answer he recieved. His eyes swept over the landscape of headstones and nature, and settled on a bouquet of red roses a few rows behind the grave in front of which he was currently standing. He smiled.

"I still remember you..." he cleared his throat and swallowed loudly; his voice was coloured with an undertone of pain, "..._so clearly_."

"You were quiet a sight, you know," he smiled at the headstone. "You were always so... present. I could always feel if you were close by. Anyone felt it." The old man seemed incredibly sad yet happy at the same time; his posture was hunched in a weak and tired manner but a smile graced his dry lips.

"Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like... what we would have been, you and I. Sometimes."  
He closed his eyes. "If I hadn't left you. If... if... you hadn't done what you did," a small tear rolled down his crinkled cheek. "If I had known how to forgive you. If I had... known."

The wind was still and the sky was clear; the birds were quiet and the entire graveyard seemed to, right in that moment, be perfectly still. The old man opened his waterfilled eyes and stared intently at the stone before him. He stood there for a while, silent, while the sun warmed his back and the wind played with his greyeing hair. It was as if someone had put a silencing spell on the entire graveyard; the birds were quiet, no longer singing, and there seemed to be no other person within miles. He stood there, hunched and old; he was a mourning man.

Suddenly, the wind was alive gain, playing with the greyeing hair on his head, and in turn the brids began to sing their bright melodies. What the man said next was barely audible above the sound of swaying trees, singing birds, and voices of people passing by on their way to their deceased loved ones.

"I know now," Derek whispered, his body shaking slightly. "I know how," he repeated with an undertone of desperation, "to forgive you." He paused and then continued speaking in a low voice. "And maybe," he took a deep breath; "maybe if I had firgured it out earlier, known _how_to... to forgive you... earlier... things could have been different. They... _would_ have been different." He stepped closer to the headstone and slowly, but not without difficulty, knelt before the grave. He put an old bony hand on the warm and smooth stone surface, fingers gently caressing her engraved name.

"I forgive you," he whispered and closed his eyes. "I forgive you, Addie."


End file.
